


Last Heartbeat

by TheDarkFlygon



Series: Caeca Fortuna (Bad Things Happen Bingo) [7]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Attempted Murder, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Questionable Relationship to Canon, Sick Character, Sickfic, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29048457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/TheDarkFlygon
Summary: Someone is trying to kill him while he's down for the count; yet Makoto can't find the strength to move away from the danger.
Relationships: Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto
Series: Caeca Fortuna (Bad Things Happen Bingo) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097189
Kudos: 37
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Last Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> _What... did you say...?_
> 
> Written for my Bad Things Happen Bingo card:  
> https://thedarkflygon.tumblr.com/post/639403196939403264/here-is-your-card-for-bad-things-happen-bingo  
> Prompt: Sickbed Slaying + Makoto
> 
> It's been a hot, like, 2 years since I last wrote for THH or Naegiri, and man, it shows... My Makoto writing is all rusty and I hate it.  
> This fic isn't very good by any of my usual standards, but I really wanted it out of the door, and I just remembered just how much I like Makoto, Kyoko and Naegiri. I may not have the same fervor I had for DR as I did almost 4 years ago when I started writing Febris-Induced Case, but hey... I still like those guys. I hate canon but I love those guys. It's such a weird feeling. I usually go back to V3 instead, so seeing them again... made my heart flutter a little, then realize my prompt fill sucked ass lmao. Oh well.  
> I'll probably go back to the ship and characters later during this card; but for now, I think I at least got that one prompt out of the way. Honestly, I had to do it with a THH-inspired oneshot because, y'know, Chapter 5 is a thing and it was the glorious sick episode that got me into DR in the first place.  
> Also, is this set Post-Canon or is it in an Everybody Lives AU? Who knows! I sure don't!

There’s a shadowy figure hovering over his bed.

He doesn’t know who it could be or why they’re here – but he’s got a bad feeling about this. All he can see about them is the reflection of the moonlight in their eyes (he forgot to close the curtains before collapsing back into bed, but he’s thankful for it, now) and the way their smile shines through the darkness like white under the black light, sharp teeth threatening him.

He doesn’t know why, but there’s one feeling that’s overwhelming the rest of his sense – he needs to escape from whoever that person is, as fast and as soon as possible.

That’s all well and dandy, but the thing is, his limbs won’t bulge. He’s trying his hardest to push him out of the bed before that person can do anything to him – he doesn’t even know if they’re armed or not – yet neither arms nor legs are responding to his desperate calls. He feels like his entire body has been covered in lead and that, in turn, seeped into his blood and flesh and made him heavier than he has any right to be. 

The light reflects in the sharp edge of a knife pointed right towards him by the mysterious figure, ready to strike at any moment, to extract the breath from his chest – but he’s already breathless, so he wonders if he hasn’t been stabbed already… but that can’t be, right? He’d have felt if the blade had struck. He’d be able to see blood flowing down it, right?

It doesn’t make sense, but he feels lightheaded and breathless, so it may just be his head playing tricks on him.

Adrenaline kicks in before long and he manages to push himself to face the mysterious figure, legs following with a delay, as he sees their eyes: sulphuric yellow, bright and glistening, unrealistically bright even considering the lights outside – like a demon’s. Their breathing is unnaturally heavy, so close to him that he hears every crackle, every wheeze and every wet sound in it, oppressing him through merely existing and being in such a close range.

He’s now facing the figure, who has lied down on him, their knife still showing under the moonlight. Their expression is haunting, a mix of pleasure and pain like he’s never seen one before – their eyes are full of sorrow, but their teeth keep smiling, distorted in a pleased grin, a droplet of red falling down from one of them, one sharper than the blade they’re holding.

Their intent is nefarious indeed, but his legs are trapped in the drapes and covers tangled in his feet, and he finds himself cornered by the wall against which his bed is. He attempts to flee from the sides, left, right, left, right – but the person (the creature?) flawlessly matches his pace, if they’re not actually predicting what he’s about to do, so there’s no way out there either.

With strong hands, they pin him down to the bed, preventing him from even attempting an escape. He now has a closeup view of their eyes: their pupils are slit, like a cat’s in a way, and focus directly into his despite the fact it should be impossible in a mostly dark room like that one. They emit their own light, so they can probably bypass his limits, making them invincible by default.

His own breathing is heavy (albeit less than the creature), his hands are trembling and he’s stuck in this position, having to wait and see what the other person is going to do, even if he can guess their intentions can’t be good – he still has some hope left that it could be one giant misunderstanding. This may just be weird dream, after all, and his luck could finally be on his side for once and –

Hands wrap around his neck, cold and leathery to the touch, as the fingers dance around the edges of his jaw – he has no idea of what they’re doing, but he wishes he wasn’t so vulnerable and lethargic right about now, wishing he could recover just enough strength to get away from this dangerous situation. Their gaze is cold as it studies him, contrasting with the caustic grin, and their intent is now too clear for him to remain any optimistic about it.

Oh my God. They can and _will_ kill him.

He has no idea of why someone would kill him, right now. Something tells him he must have done at least one thing to be a person to eliminate. He must know too much or snoop around too many places, and that must be displeasing to at least one individual. Kyoko did try to warn him, after all, of what sort of cases she may get on; but he didn’t mind because, simply put, he’d go through the apocalypse to be with her.

He’d very much appreciate her to be by his side, right now, considering he’s about to get killed, all alone, and it stings to think he’ll be drawing his last breath all on his own. If there was one thing he could be proud of about himself, it wasn’t any sort of talent nor ability, but his role as the heart of the class, the beacon of hope of the group as some have nicknamed him (it used to be ironic, but it grew on people); so, now that he’d need someone to pay him the favour back (now that he ever thought of it that way, but you know…), there’s nobody by his side and he’s left facing a demon in the darkness.

And that’s when one realization strikes him.

He’s going to _die_ _alone_.

He’s going to die right here and ow without having had the opportunity to see all of the people he loves one last time and to tell them how grateful he was for every single one of them.

He won’t have the chance to hug Komaru one last time and tell her how she’s the best sister ever.

He won’t have the chance to thank his parents for their love and support, for comforting him in times of needs.

He won’t have the chance to tell the class he loved being their classmate and friend, how he spent some of the best years of his life with them, how they were the best thing to happen to him.

He won’t have the chance to tell Kyoko that… that…

The fingers around his throat slowly move from his neck to his head, eyes glancing into his, still burning with hellish flames, albeit suddenly expressionless, evoking nothing in his panicked mind. The person’s breathing gets heavier and heavier as his starts to disappear, second by second, as his own breath is starting to run short. He’d try to fight against it if his limbs weren’t, again, too heavy to move, too stiff to use, especially in a situation like that – adrenaline isn’t enough to save him, now.

And there he is, dying in his bed, slain during a moment where he was too vulnerable to escape. It’s sad, sad thing; but at least, it’ll be a quick and easy death, if it comes to it.

* * *

He wakes up to the soft light of the sun peeking through the curtains and the faint scent of lavender. The air is soft and a little cool, unlike what he can vaguely remember having felt before – only to jolt up when he remembers he shouldn’t even be alive to think that.

Two hands push him back into the bed, gentle yet firm. He doesn’t need to think much (and thank goodness for that, his head is heavy and feels like it could split in half if he used it too much) to know who this is, smile a little at the realization, then get even more confused about how he landed in this dream-like situation.

“Stay put,” Kyoko tells him in this tone that only her voice has, the one that’s stoic yet caring, in a way he can’t quite describe.

“B-but… I…”

He coughs, loudly, and his laboured breathing reminds him of something: the person’s, the _creature_ ’s.

“Everything’s okay, Makoto. You’ve just gone through a terrifying night. Everything else is fine. You’re still here.”

Her words are making him think a little more rationally about what felt like his death: it must have been a nightmare he didn’t wake up from. That’s weird, because usually, he’d wake up when he’d pass away in his dream, only to jump awake, drenched in sweat. The apocalypse happening before everyone’s eyes hasn’t helped.

“I don’t know what you saw while I was tending to you, even if I can imagine a version of it.”

He’s used to comforting Kyoko, not the other way around. She used to be very much uneasy with it, stumbling with her words and preferring silent gestures to words – which she still does and does very well at that with people she’s opened to – but she’s trying her best, he can tell.

“All I can tell you is that you were trying to escape from me but couldn’t.” She puts a damp washcloth on his forehead, prompting him to notice she isn’t wearing her gloves. “I assume you mistook me for someone else while I was simply trying to keep your fever in check.”

So, the figure… wasn’t trying to kill him, then.

“That’s probably it,” he replies with a cough interrupting him. “Sorry if I scared you.”

“It’s fine. Please tell me about it if you feel like it. I want to understand what happened when you pushed me away.”

“Will do,” he gives her the biggest smile he call pull off.

**Author's Note:**

> like seriously i rewatched some of thh chapter 5 and realized how far i had strayed, yikes


End file.
